The Addict
by Dexer
Summary: This is the story of Justin Camaras, a young heroin addict. He and his friend were caught in the company of the FBI's most wanted gargoyle assassin. What he says will determine their fates... This is the story of the Addict.
1. The Addict

The Addict 

Written by The Casket (Smokey B)

DISCLAIMER - All characters from the TV series "Gargoyles" are the property of Disney and Buena Vista. I have no rights to these characters, I admit it, but PLEASE don't sue. ! All characters from TGS are copyright their creators (Ariana, Graeme, Kirin, Usagi, etc), and are used w/o express permission, but are ACCREDITED TO THEIR CREATORS herein this disclaimer, while all original characters are mine. by the way, thanks to you all for the inspiration...

------Prelude------

"Uuhhhh...yeah..."

Justin had no clue what he was doing. In fact, for the past two weeks, his mind had been a blank, filled only briefly with the recurring thoughts of impending death that had plagued him during the entire experience. The shock had remained intact until he had been found by the police, and, although they offered the simple necessities he almost never had access to: food, a bed, and simple indoor plumbing, he remained silent as a mime as to his situation.

Justin was a heroin addict.

"Kid, what you say over the next five days is going to decide whether I should send you to the pen on the narcotics charge, or accept your form for placement into witness protection. The latter won't happen unless you tell me what I want to hear."

Justin slowly turned his head to face the detective. Matt Bluestone was an aging veteran on the NYPD, and he alone was cited for the highest amount of successful interrogations the force had seen in recent years. Yet, Justin posed a challenge. He watched as Justin ran a hand through his dark brown hair, which nearly covered his eyes. Matt, along with the rest of the department, knew Justin's physical description by heart. "Camaras, Justin. Age 16. Male, height 6' 0'', weight 181 lbs. Brown hair, Brown eyes, prefers brown clothes. Physical ID includes track marks on his right arm due to intravenous heroin use. Is a known heroin addict, and is subject to violence upon approach." Matt closed the folder, and cleared his throat after he spoke. Justin continued to stare, absent-mindedly tapping his feet against the floor. "What is it you want me to say, dude" he questioned. Matt leaned in as if to whisper in Justin's ear.

"Everything."

Justin sat back in his chair, and put both legs on the desk, "You ain't going home early tonight." He warned, staring the detective straight in the eyes, looking for a tell. Matt chuckled, and leaned back in his own seat as well. "I'll make the coffee."

Justin rolled up his right sleeve, "Not so fast. What was our deal?" he asked, suddenly still as a statue. Matt gave a quick glance to the two-way mirror at his right, and nodded. There was a slight beep as the room's intercom system came on.

"Give him his candy, Bluestone." came the distorted voice of DEA Agent Sally Nerveza. Hesitantly, Matt reached into his inner coat pocket, and came out with a syringe. Clearly marked was 10ccs of heroin solution. He handed the syringe to Justin, who administered it to his jugular neck vein single-handedly, groaning as it immediately took effect. Matt watched all of this, nodding his head as he tried to ignore the fact that he had just given someone a drug, instead, focusing on the seriousness of the situation at hand, the same situation which required him to make any deal possible to obtain information.

"Like I said..."

Matt's attention went to Justin as he stuck a cigarette into his mouth and lit it.

"You ain't going home early tonight..."

---------------- Two weeks before, Central Park, Manhattan ----------------

"So what's going on?"

Justin shook his head and shrugged. He took a hit from the joint he held between his fingers, before passing it along to his accomplice. "Trying to make a living." he stated, getting comfortable on the park bench. His friend passed the joint back.

"When you gonna kick the smack, Jus?"

Justin eyed his friend in confusion.

"I don't know."

The last few times Justin had tried to go clean of heroin, he had ended up in the ER with severe hypothermia and other "opiate withdrawal symptoms". Since the last time, Justin had made it clear that he would not take his usage any further, but instead, maintain the dosage that would keep him from suffering withdrawal.

Justin took his two hits, then watched as his friend took his. "Clay, I got to say something to you, dude..." Justin said, getting Clay's attention.

"When was the last time you got attacked by a gargoyle-hater?"

Clay chuckled, and shrugged in reply. "Don't know. It's been so many damn times I don't count anymore." Clay had met Justin in middle school, And had stuck by his side until they had both reached the eleventh grade in high school. He was a dark-blue skinned, beaked gargoyle, whom Justin seriously compared to the Gargoyle assassin at the top of the FBI's most-wanted gargoyles list: Orion Haze. Both of them had the same tint of skin color, along with their ridged beaks, and jet black hair. Clay had even thought there was some family resemblence. Unbeknownst to the two friends, Clay had been correct.

"So how much did we net in Today?" asked Clay, standing to stretch his wings. Justin grunted, and passed Clay the joint, before digging around in his pockets. "Let's see..."

Clay continued to smoke the joint while watching Justin count out the money.

"Two-thousand straight. That's a 'G' each."

Clay nodded in response, and passed the joint back. "You know..." he began. "You really oughta concentrate on SELLING that 'H' and not DOING it. I mean, shit's bad enough as it is. The difference is you KNOW you're addicted to the shit." Justin Rolled up Clay's share of the day's dealing profits, and handed it to him. "Yeah I know." He replied. "Kinda like you and that coke, right?" Clay was taken aback.

"Hey now, COKE is an entirely different thing, man." Clay remarked, pocketing the money and pulling out a silver tube. He unscrewed the top of it, and tipped it slightly over the side of his thumb. a small bit of white powder landed on it, which Clay snorted up almost immediately, letting out a slight moan as the euphoria hit him.

"What a rush, huh?" Justin commented. Clay nodded, and offered the tube to him. "Want some?" Justin thought about it for a second, and decided "Ah what the hell. Nobody buys this early anyways."

Clay chuckled, and poured out some powder into Justin's inch-long right pinkie nail. Justin cleared his nostrils, and snorted it all up in one go. He sat back, sighing as the feeling of euphoria washed over him as well. Still, to him, NOTHING compared to heroin. It was his 'love drug', as Clay liked to put it. Clay considered himself a philosopher of sorts. Justin had to agree with him. Clay himself was the gargoyle version of the 1960's 'hippie'. He experimented with many drugs, but considered his favorites to be cocaine and a concoction of his own called 'Claymore'. He also wore what would be considered 'neo-hippie' clothes: A vanilla tank-top, baggy khakis, and a solid gold 'peace' pendant around his neck. The only difference was peace itself. Clay didn't care for it one bit. The moment anything started to jump off, he was the first to throw a punch, and, judging by the strength of said punch, the last.

"So what do we do now? The sun rises in about three hours." said Justin, as he put the joint out, and pocketed the roach for a later occasion. Clay scratched the back of his head in thought. Just then, Justin lit up. "I know. Let's go over to the Lay-Back. I heard some shit went down the other night. And you know how it is..."

Clay nodded as he removed a single Newport from a full pack, and stuck it in his beak. "Yeah, I know. Every little bit of info helps out here."

Justin nodded in agreement, and they started towards the bus stop at the entrance to Central park. Halfway to the stop, Clay noticed a shift in the activity of the place. "Hold up, man." He called out. Justin came to a complete stop, and turned to face him. Clay stood in pure silence for a moment, when, all of a sudden, fear crept over his face.

"RUN! FUCKING RUN!"

They took off towards the entrance as the gunshots started. Five men leapt from their hiding places, armed with pistols and Machine guns, and proceeded to chase them. Clay turned his head back as he ran, and his vision was immediately filled with people. At his current speed, all he could notice was that they all bore a similar insignia: a gold hammer surrounded by a ring. He let out a panicked yelp as he tried his best to keep up with Justin, who was some distance ahead. "Haters!" Clay cried at the top of his lungs. "We're being chased by fucking haters!"

That alone was enough to get Justin to stop. Clay watched as his friend whirled around, pistol in each hand, ready for some action. Seeing this, he drew his own guns as well. They took aim and waited as the group of men continued to ease their way towards them. The men stopped when they were face-to-face.

"What the fuck do you want!" asked Justin, his fingers already putting pressure on the triggers. "We want the beast!" yelled one of the men in return. "He's an ABOMINATION!" cried out another. Both sides continued to argue and threaten one another, with neither showing signs of giving in. "Do you know who you're FUCKING with!" screamed Justin, in a final bid to end the standoff. "You touch him, and I'll rip your fucking balls off and hand them to you!"

At that moment, one of the men in the back let out a shrill scream as he was yanked from his feet by an unknown source. The group, along with Justin and Clay, checked their surroundings for the intruder. Not two seconds after, the man fell from the sky, landing exactly between the two groups. Both sides let out screams as they saw the body.

It had no head.

"Holy shit! What the hell's going on!" Clay cried, unsure whether to stand his ground or start running. His concerns were answered moments later, as another man was pulled into the darkness by the unknown assailant. One-by-one, the men vanished, until only one remained standing. The lone survivor shook in fear, low whimpers his only form of speech. Justin tapped Clay on the shoulder, and pointed. Clay saw what he meant, and they both began to back away. Out of the darkness, a long, spade-tipped tail slithered its way around the man's neck, turning his whimpers into full-blown screams as he tried to resist. The mystery killer suddenly jerked his tail to the side, snapping the man's neck in one go. Exchanging surprised glances, the two friends took steady aim into the darkness, waiting for a movement. The tail slid back towards its owner, and was followed out into the light by a taloned foot, along with the rest of the gargoyle's body. Justin let out a gasp as he got a look at the creature's face, recognizing him almost immediately.

"No fucking way... Orion Haze..."

The deep blue-skinned gargoyle let out a deep laugh, as he stumbled forward. The two companions could tell that he was more than obviously drunk. Justin holstered his guns, and began to inch closer. He couldn't believe his eyes. "That..." the gargoyle slurred in his deep, booming voice. "Is the name given to me by the...press..." He let out a grunt as he stumbled forward, tripping over his own tail. He hit the ground hard on his back, groaning in pain. Clay eyed Justin with a confused look, to which Justin only replied, "Help me out, dude. He's fucked up."

Grunting under the weight of the older gargoyle, the two teens hoisted him onto their backs, and began the long, slow journey towards the Lay-Back.

---------------- PRESENT DAY, NYPD INTERROGATION ROOM ----------------

"So that's when it all started?"

Justin nodded, and put out his cigarette, as he watched Detective Bluestone take notes. The detective sighed, and closed the folder he had been writing in.

"You know that if you give him up right now, we can make all of this go away."

Justin nodded. He understood. They had offered him a deal that could get him and Clay completely free of charges. The only catch was turning in The FBI's most-wanted assassin. After the past few weeks, Justin had come to accept his fate. He cleared his throat to speak.

"You know I can't do that. But it's more than you think, it's not just pressure."

Matt scoffed, and reopened the folder. "Then tell me what it IS. I want to know exactly what he told you to buy your silence."

Justin shook his head in reply. "That's my personal life. I'm not getting into that shit."

Matt flipped over a page.

"So tell me what happened after you found him."

Justin sat back in his chair, and cracked his neck and knuckles. "I think we're done for today, right?"

Matt checked his watch, and noted that it was3:45 A.M."Fine, I'll let you go back to your cell..."

"... But I want to continue this discussion tomorrow."

---------- End of Chapter One ----------

Please R&R, and no I'm not begging. Honest reviews and criticism are accepted and encouraged, any help can be useful.  
Send questions and comments to dexingsmotpoker420 at gmail .com


	2. Learning New Secrets

The Addict 

Written by The Casket (AKA Dexer)

DISCLAIMER - All characters from the TV series "Gargoyles" are the property of Disney and Buena Vista. I have no rights to these characters, I admit it, but PLEASE don't sue. ! All characters from TGS are copyright their creators (Ariana, Graeme, Kirin, etc), and are used w/o express permission, but are ACCREDITED TO THEIR CREATORS herein this disclaimer, while all original characters are mine. by the way, thanks to you all for the inspiration...

-------------CHAPTER 2 - "Learning new Secrets"---------------

"Good afternoon, Mr. Camaras."

Justin said nothing to the detective as he took his seat at the other end of the table. He most likely hadn't heard him. Even from across, Matt could hear the music coming from the boy's headphones. It was as monotone as his blank stare. Without a second glance, Matt shrugged it off, and politely asked for Justin to remove his headphones. When he got no response, he tried once more. After a third try, he gave up, and simply waited, as the volume of the MP4 player rose. Justin began to nod his head, and sway his body to the beat. He began to sing perfectly in tune with it.

"Bring Sally up, and Bring Sally down... Let's done start, gotta til' the ground..."

Matt watched and waited patiently; he knew the song couldn't last more than a few minutes. Justin paid no attention, and continued, his voice switching from a simple follow to the beat to a deep, depressed, sobbing tone.

"Old Miss Lucy's dead and gone... Left me here to weep and moan... Bring Sally up, and Bring Sally down, let's done start,  
gotta til' the ground..."

Matt chuckled, and shook his head. He knew the song as good as anyone else who had listened to Moby in the '90's. It was a classic. As the song continued, Matt began to grow impatient, something which ocurred rarely with him. His face turned beet-red, as he began to mumble something about 'kids these days.' At this, Justin finally removed his headphones.

"What's wrong, detective? You don't like music?"

Matt shook his head in reply. "No, it's not that. I just... haven't had a good night, is all."

Justin laughed, and shut off the music. "Pity. Music is supposed to HELP." Matt scoffed at this, and began to open one of the three folders he had brought along with him. "Not on a night like this, it doesn't." Justin gave a hearty chuckle, and placed the mp4 player and headphones in his pockets. "You know, in the old days, music was even used to code messages."

This drew Matt's attention.

"And?" questioned the detective. "What of it?" Justin sighed, and sat back in his chair, as he preferred to. "For the first five minutes of each of our interrogation days, I'm going to play you a different song of my choosing. Don't think of it as a MESSAGE, Mr. Bluestone. Think of it as a taste of things to come."

Matt copied his statement word for word into a notepad, which he placed in his coat pocket. He cleared his throat, and began to reach into his other pocket.

"Now..."

He pulled out a syringe, which he put on the desk, in front of Justin.

"Let's continue our discussion from where we left off before."

Justin reached for the syringe, and nodded.

"Let's."

---------- The Lay-Back, Two weeks before, minus one day ----------

"Clay?"

Justin called, sipping his beer as he walked towards their usual room. It had only been a few hours since they had brought Orion with them to the Lay-Back. Needless to say, Madame Elizabeth, the owner of the flathouse, was going insane with worry. "Clay?" Justin called once more, as he neared their doorway. Giving it up, he stopped in the doorframe. Leaning against it, he peered in. Clay sat on the sofa, unmoving, staring blankly at the TV. Even from the distance, Justin could tell that something was wrong.

Orion was missing from the floor.

Cautiosly, Justin readied himself for an attack. With a yell, he leapt into the room. As he expected, Orion leapt from the shadows, brandishing a large Bowie knife. Having anticipated the attack, Justin ducked the blade, and did a sweep kick towards the back of his foe's legs. Orion gave a groan as he was tripped onto his back. Before he had a chance to react, Justin had pounced on top of him, and reversed the knife. Its blade was now on Orion's throat.

"You really aren't all they say."

Justin tightened his grip on the knife, and gave a soft chuckle as he did so. Just then, Orion burst out in eerie, deep laughter. He stared Justin into the eyes.

"I don't think so, kid."

Using his eyes, he motioned for Justin to look down. Still holding the knife, Justin obeyed, and saw that Orion's tail was holding a gun directly to his groin area. His eyes went back to Orion's, full of fear.

"You got a lot of balls, boy, I'll give you that. Now, get off me."

Without a word, Justin obeyed, tossing the knife to Clay as he did so. Orion jumped to his feet, still holding the gun with his tail. "You got ten seconds." He spoke. "Who are you guys, where am I, and how the fuck did I get here?" Clay and Justin both exchanged glances, before turning back to face Orion. Justin chose to speak.

"My name's Justin. Over there on the couch is Clay. You're at a flathouse in the lower east side called the Lay-Back. We went and brought you here earlier when you passed out drunk in that alley by Central Park. Appreciate what you did, by the way."

Justin took a step back towards Clay, while their guest remained deep in thought. After a moment, Orion lowered his gun, and used his tail to hide it behind his belt. "I've gotta say something really quick." He said, his voice full of uncertainity of something. He locked eyes with Clay. Growling softly, he scanned Clay completely with his eyes.

"Why do you look so fucking familiar?"

Clay tried to give him an answer, but all that came out was a bunch of stuttering. When he was asked, Justin merely shrugged, and sat down on the couch, next to Clay. Orion mumbled something under his breath. He reached into the left pocket of his mud-stained black jeans, and pulled out a square device with a small screen that fit neatly in the palm of his hand.

"I use this to ID the bodies." he said.

The others watched as he pressed the device down on his wrist, growling as it pricked him fora DNA sample. When it was done, he walked over to Clay, who willingly stretched out his arm. Orion could see that the kid had full trust in him, forreasons that he soon might be able to understand. Without further ado, he repeated the Identification procedure on Clay, and stepped away to read the matchup results.

"Siblings should have at least five pairs of similar DNA patterns."

Everyone watched and waited, all tense for the answer. The device gave a slight beep, followed by another.

"That's two pairs." Orion remarked, his eyes never leaving the screen. Seconds later, three repetitive beeps were heard.

"That's three, four, five pairs."

Just when he was about to give the answer, the device beeped another three times.

"That's EIGHT pairs. Holy shit, I don't believe it."

Justin and Clay exchanged more surprised glances, before the sound of Orion clearing his throat got their attention. "How long has it been since they died?" he asked, the question directed to Clay. "Three years." Clay replied, the expression on his face a look of both excitement and fear. Justin couldn't understand the conversation at first, but then it became completely clear that they were referring to Clay's parents.

"They never told you about me?"

Clay shook his head, 'no'. "I heard some rumors, but I never really gave a shit. Thought it was a bunch of bullshit, anyway."

Orion groaned, and reached into the inside pocket of the black leather vest he had been wearing. He pulled out what Clay and Justin both immediately recognized as a stack of photos. He asked Justin to move over so he could have a seat. One-by-one, he showed them the photos, Clay recognized at least one of the people in each one. Still shaking, he pointed them out.

"Shit. That's mom and dad."

Orion nodded, and handed over the photo. In it, Clay could clearly see both of his parents, standing side-by-side, their arms around either side of a smiling teenaged child. Clay noticed that it was Orion, however, and not himself. That was when he caught a glimpse of the wrapped bundle in his mother's arms. He had paid little attention to it, but reality had finally caught up with him.

"Is that... me?"

Orion nodded, and took the photo when Clay passed it back. "I don't fucking believe it..." Clay mumbled, burying his head in his hands over all the stress. "It just seems impossible." At this, Orion replaced the photos, and came out with something else. He handed Clay a small, greenish card, which, after viewing, Clay almost dropped with shock.

It was a birth certificate.

"Orion Hazelton Moreno." Clay read aloud. "So what's up with 'Orion Haze'?"

Orion shrugged, and took back the certificate. "When the shit went down, the press had to call me SOMETHING. They chose a shorter version of my first and middle names. Since I had my records deleted, nobody else knew my last name." Clay was visibly impressed. He now relaxed more, beginning to see both himself and his parents in a new light. He still had one question, tearing at his mind. In his new, relaxed state, he felt compelled to come forth.

"What did you do? Why are the Feds so anxious to get their hands on you?"

Orion said nothing for a moment, then, he began spilling it all.

"Dad threw me out onto the street back in 2009. I was fifteen years old. A few days before, I had gotten into a fight at school. I went to Brooklyn High back in the day. It was this guy named Karl Martin. He was the sole gargoyle-hater back then. Sick fuck liked to kick the living shit out of anything that walked the halls and had wings... Wasn't the same with me, though... Anyway, I was stopped by Karl and his little gang of friends outside of the main building during Free period one day. They all had bats and knives. Karl walked right up to my face, and told me that he was going to kill me. He said that he had to set an example for all the other people out there who hated gargoyles, but couldn't find a good way to show it. I got so pissed at him, that when he whipped out his switchblade, I didn't even care. The first thing I did was tear out a good chunk of his arm to get ahold of that knife. From then on, it was just a bunch of movement. I remember blacking out. When I came to, he was on the ground, along with all of his friends. They were all in one huge puddle of blood. I looked at myself and saw that not only was I covered in blood, but the knife in my right hand was, too."

Orion gave a low groan, and stopped to catch his breath for a second.

"The campus security guards found me at the scene, bloody knife in hand. They all pulled out guns, and told me to hit the ground. There were three of them. I don't even remember killing them, but the next thing I knew, there were three more bodies. I grabbed a gun from one of them, and took off running. The next day, it was all over the news. The school principal had found the bodies and dialed 911. It turns out I killed all but one of them. The three guards for sure were dead, along with Karl's group of fucked-up friends. but Karl lived. They said he would never be able to speak again, since his vocal cords had been sliced to shit. He was in a coma for three weeks... When Mom and Dad found out, you wouldn't believe how pissed they were. Mom, who always used to be cheerful, started saying that she never had a son; that I was dead to her. Dad had his own little way of coping. As soon as he saw me, I had a double-barrel shotgun to my forehead. He said that it was for my own good. He took me out to the back balcony, and took aim. He said I deserved to burn for being the little shit that I was. At this point, it didn't matter. I grabbed the gun, kicked him in the gut, and ripped the piece in half. After that, I just disappeared for a while."

Clay nodded, and sparked up a cigarette. He offered one to his brother, who took it, and did the same. "I can get all that shit." Clay said, nodding. "Mom always was touchy when I mentioned other siblings. I found a fucked-up shotgun in the attic when I was twelve. When I asked Dad about it, he said it was none of my business and that he had messed it up while on a hunting trip. I guess he was always lying."

"Yeah." Orion started. "I always thought so, too."

---------- NYPD Interrogation room, Present day ----------

Matt cleared his throat, and tested his pen on a sheet of scratch paper.

"So, you asked him how it all began?"

Justin nodded, and took a drag of his cigarette, which was almost half finished. The detective never blinked during all of this, maintaining perfect eye contact following Justin's fluid movements.

"What did he say?"

Justin gave a slight shrug, and shook his head. "Nothing. He just ended the conversation right then and there. I guess he didn't want to talk about it."

Matt's eyes narrowed, as he checked for signs of Justin lying. Either Justin was very smart in hiding his lies, or he was telling the truth. The latter, of course, was very unlikely. In fact, from Justin's actual knowledge, his reply had contained no truth whatsoever.

"You're sure he didn't say something?" Matt asked once more, testing Justin for weakness. "No." Justin replied, his tone of voice suggesting truth. "He didn't say shit." Matt was silent for a moment, as he pondered over Justin's replies. He decided to put it aside for later use.

"Fine. Carry on with the story."

"All right. We went to sleep after that, so..."

---------- The Lay-Back, the next evening ----------

When Justin pulled himself out of bed, he nearly shat his pants. Clay lay on the floor, wide awake, also staring in surprise. What had awakened them was a loud moan coming from the couch against the wall. From their groggy, blurred points of view, Both Clay and Justin could clearly see Orion having sex on the couch with, who'd have guessed it: Madame Elizabeth. Shaking his head to clear his field of view, Justin cleared his throat loud enough for the couple to hear.

"I thought you were worried to shit about having him here, Liz?"

Madame Elizabeth could only give a lustful moan as Orion continued to pound into her, before he turned to the others. Not even stopping his flow, he replied, "Turns out she likes the bad boys!" Clay and Justin chuckled, and quickly got dressed. "Y'all can stay here and finish up..." Justin began. "Come to the Green room for a little wake-and-bake when you're done." With that, Clay and Justin went to Elizabeth's private 'Green Room', leaving the two to burn off the rest of their sexual energy.

----------- The Green Room ----------

West Coast Mafia Gang's "Gangsta Pimpin"

Hook

/Ya droppin' dollars, we poppin' collars, like 'oh yeah/  
/Gangsta pimpin', we mackin' bitches, You know that/  
/Shake it, baby, I'm lovin' the way you throw that/  
/liked your picture, but youse a stripper; ass so fat./

repeat 2x

-------------------------------------

Justin bobbed his head to the West Coast Mafia beat. To his side, Clay did the same, as he picked up the blunt wrap, filled as far as possible with weed, and began to roll it between his thumbs and index fingers. Justin leaned back in his chair, looking over the room, which was, as its name implied, completely green. Everything from the carpet to the lightbulbs were green, giving the room an extraoridinary look... Especially since it was used to house Madame Elizabeth's personal supply of drugs. Ten female servants worked in the room full-time, measuring out dosages and delivering drugs and parphernalia ready-to-use to whomever was permitted to enter. But of course, the Madame's personal guests got the presidental treatment.

"Would you like some Blotters? Or perhaps Vietnamese Opium?"

The young worker stood in front of Justin, holding out a tray loaded with numerous drugs and other items. On sight, Justin politely asked for the opium, and was handed one bowl's worth, and an opium pipe, which held presumably more than Justin could ever had expected. Both starstruck and confused at the same time, he finally asked, "Uh... How do I smoke this?" At his words, the female servant returned, and Justin offered her the empty space next to him. She thanked him, and took the pipe and lighter. Justin paid attention to every detail, as he watched her load the pipe... Her blonde hair... Her blue eyes... Her angelic body... It all fell in, along with the idea of smoking opium, as she took one puff, then another, before inhaling deeply. As she blew out the smoke, she let out a moan, as the opium smoke crossed the blood-brain barrier. Justin watched as she fell back onto the Lime green sofa, obviously intoxicated. Chuckling in both awe and amazement, Justin took the pipe and lighter from her, and repeated the process on himself. After the fourth hit, he let out a surprised 'Whoa' as he felt a rush even more intense than his heroin take over his system.

"I'll be goddaaaaaaaaammnned..."

Justin's speech was severely impaired, as were his bodily movements, as he struggled to reach Clay. When he finally did, Clay had already finished rolling the blunt. Clay turned, as Justin continued to tug on his shirt. "What's up?" he asked, noting Justin's impairments. "Duuuude..." Justin slurred. "You gotta trryyy some of this shiiiit. It'll only take one hiit." Clay sat motionless for a moment, then reached out, and grabbed the pipe. "Goddamn it. How good can one hit fucking be---" His words were cut off as he took a nice, long hit, and inhaled. Once he had exhaled, all doubt had disappeared from his mind.

"Dude... I'm an idiot..."

Justin burst out in howling laughter at Clay's words. Clay himself couldn't help but give a chuckle. That one hit had left him DEVASTATED. Having no tolerance to opiates whatsoever, it had hit him nearly five times as hard. Just as Clay was passing the pipe back to Justin, The door to the Green Room opened. Orion stepped into the room, his left arm around the shoulders of Madame Elizabeth. They both looked worn out, as one could tell by their physical appearance. Orion's hair was a complete mess, and he was covered in sweat. His breathing was loud and fast for the first few moments. Elizabeth's hair was also a mess, but her leather outfit had somehow remained intact. It hid nothing to the eye; it was simply a coat of leather belts and silver rings. Both of them sat on the green loveseat across from the sofa. The servants all rushed to attend to them. Elizabeth took from the tray a glass bulb pipe, and what appeared to be crystal meth. As the first servant left, another one took her place, this time standing before Orion.

"Would you like a drink, Master?"

The question caused everyone to pause. "Master?" Orion repeated, glancing over to Elizabeth for an answer. She giggled at first. "They call any male I'm with 'Master.' Just like they call me 'Madame.'" A little unnerved at first, Orion immediately regained his posture. He turned back to the servant.

"Absinthe, please. Triple-shot with extra wormwood. I want to see God."

The servant gave a bow, and replied, "Excellent choice, Master. You will not be displeased." With that, she departed to get the materials. Orion gave a chuckle, and turned back to Elizabeth. "Good fucking service." he remarked. She nodded, and grasped the bottom of his jaw with her hand. "Damn good." Clay and Justin looked on as Elizabeth pulled Orion's beak so that it joined with her lips, and they exchanged a deep, passionate kiss. Impatient, Clay sparked up the blunt.

---------- NYPD Interrogation Room, Present day ----------

Matt and Justin both stopped as the warning buzz echoed over the intercom.

"I guess our time today is over, Justin." the detective sighed, and closed his folder. He pocketed the pen, and began to gather his things. "I'll see you in the morning." Justin replied, as he rose to walk to his corner of the room. Matt was about to leave, when Justin's voice called him back.

"Hey, detective!"

Matt paused, and shouted back, motionless, "I'm listening."

"Don't forget what I said..."

'Yeah, Whatever...' Thought Matt, as he walked out of the room, and headed for his car.

------------END CHAPTER 2 -------------

PLEASE R&R. Need at least SOME encouragement to write, although I may just continue out of habit... As always, Questions,  
comments, criticism, or even flames, should be sent to dexingsmotpoker420 at gmail . com


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